Patience
by Gwynn
Summary: FINISHED! Arnold comes to terms with his feelings for Helga at their senior prom. Contains some mature themes, sensuality, and strong language. Arnold/Helga pairing
1. Patience: Part One

**Patience**

**Author's Note:** **Okay, I've been agonizing over _Patience_ for the last couple of months. For all intents and purposes, I know this story will be somewhere in the neighborhood of 8,000-10,000 words, and I'm simultaneously writing another chapter for _Set Me Free_. Unfortunately, that and work/school obligations made it impossible for me to publish _Patience_ all at once. That's why I'm going to amend my plans for it a little. Rest assured, though, _Patience_ will remain a SHORT STORY surrounding ONE set of events, my reason for writing it in the first place. The only difference is that the three separate scenes I'd planned on lumping together as one story will be broken up into three brief chapters.**** I've already begun the second chapter, and it should be out by early next week. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter and please review to tell me what you think of it so far.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Hey Arnold!,_ so what would be the point of suing me? I'm just a broke-ass college student who gets a little too creative with the cartoons she likes. **

**Patience: Part One**

**_Patience is the key to all things._**

**_- Iranian proverb_**

****

Have you ever noticed how high school dances always seem to come with a theme tacked to them? There's never just a big party in the gym with cool lights, a band, and some punch. Instead, you're subjected to the well-meaning but cheesy whim of a decorations committee. This was certainly the case for the theme of my senior prom: "An Evening in Paris."

Still, I had to give our decorations committee their due credit. _It must've taken them hours to set everything up, _I thought, letting my eyes sweep the entire length of West Hillwood High's spacious gym. White lights were strung along the walls and even on the ceiling. Tiny café tables, complete with wrought-iron chairs and votive candles, lined the room. On the walls hung huge student-done paintings of famous Paris sights. A papier-mâché sculpture of the Eiffel Tower crouched beneath one basketball goal. In the corner next to the main entrance was a DJ from Hillwood City's local rock station providing a mixture of old and new tunes for our musical pleasure. For the final touch, a refreshment table furnished with cookies and punch was parked directly across from the DJ.

From my current vantage point at the refreshment table, I could tell that many of my peers had succumbed to whatever festivity this "Parisian" world had to offer. Almost everyone was out on the dance floor and swaying to a slow song. Nothing was going to spoil their good time, not even the chaperones that were continually casing the joint for any signs of mischief.

My eyes came to rest on one couple on the packed dance floor. The guy was tall and lanky, with a hooked nose that gave his face an eagle-like appearance. He wore a black tux, and his light brown hair was slathered in enough gel to cause the follicles to stand straight up on end. I found the whole effect to be a bit too preppy for my taste. The guy's partner, on the other hand, was just stunning. She had silky auburn hair that was pulled back into a French twist. Several strands framed her expressive face. A flowing green gown clung tightly to the girl's voluptuous figure and perfectly complemented her deeply tanned skin.

As I continued to watch the two of them - their extreme closeness to each other, his hands sliding over the exposed skin of her back, her full, sensuous lips grazing his neck - I felt my stomach clench up. _To think it's only been less than six months since I held Lila Sawyer in my arms like that, _I mused. _And now Stinky Petersen has that honor, if you can call it that. _Shaking my head, I promptly turned away from the pair's suggestive embrace.

Just in time, too, because a couple of paper cups were being shoved at me by the server, a junior I recognized as belonging to Student Council. He'd probably been forced into refreshments duty because no self-respecting senior wanted to be caught dead doing such a dumb job at his or her own prom. "Here're your drinks," he announced briskly, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Someone else stepped up behind me and asked for some punch like I'd just done. I fired off a quick, perfunctory "Thanks" before taking the containers and walking away, leaving the poor kid to continue to curse his rotten luck.

I headed to a café table toward the rear of the gym. At it sat a tall, slender blonde. This girl somewhat differed in appearance from the vast majority of females who'd showed up in the usual prom fashions of elaborate updos and flashy, trailing formals. Her hair was allowed to float freely around her shoulders in soft waves. She was currently attired in a simple, lavender-colored dress, which flared out slightly before ending at mid-calf. Best of all, her feet were encased in low-heeled sandals, not the ridiculously high, clunky things I often encountered in the opposite sex. _I'm glad I'm just a guy so I don't have to worry about that kind of stuff, _I thought. _All I had to get for this event was a tux, and then I was good to go._

While I was still nearing her, the blonde smiled and called out, "Hey, Arnold, what took you so long? I'm practically dying of thirst here."

Grinning as broadly as her, I put both cups on the table and flopped down into the seat beside my companion. "Save it, Helga. You just get your kicks off of telling people what to do. If you were really thirsty, you would've taken on the task yourself like the big girl I know you are and gotten the punch with your own two hands."

"Well, if that's the case, why did you let me dupe you?"

"Oh, I don't know, Pataki, maybe to get away from your overbearing and bossy self, if only for a moment?"

Helga snorted and rolled her eyes, her face vibrant with mischief. "C'mon, Football Head, you know you wouldn't have me any other way."

_Yes, where would I be without Helga G. Pataki constantly egging me on? _I wondered, pausing for a second. _Probably a whole lot saner, but who wants to be like that? It's not as much fun as being driven out of your mind. _

Ever since preschool, Helga's main goal in life seemed to have been geared toward torturing me in every possible way. I spent several unsuccessful years alternating between trying to ignore her or reason with her. At times I'd get so fed up that I would attempt to lash back by giving Helga a taste of her own nasty medicine. Unfortunately, these schemes almost always experienced a messy crash-and-burn in the face of Helga's expertise as a bully who could take the shit she dealt out and then some.

Somewhere along the line, though, the fighting suddenly took on a friendlier, albeit still snappy, nature. Anymore I didn't even mind being called "Football Head," Helga's worst name for me that was intended to make fun of the distinctive shape of my head (well, as long as it wasn't all the time). Maybe part of this transformation had to do with learning how to tolerate each other's presence once our respective best friends starting dating. And perhaps there was an even more telling reason, one that was in the form of a certain couple I'd spotted only minutes earlier…

"Okay, this is becoming way too quaint for our own good," I protested hoarsely. I hoped Helga wouldn't be able to discern the hollowness present in my laughter.

Shrugging, she seized a cup and drained the punch out of it in one swig. "I completely agree. I hate getting all mushy. It can totally kill any moment, no matter what you got going on."

"Speaking of mushy…" I quickly glanced around me.

"You mean, have Phoebe and Gerald made an effort to quit sucking face right in the middle of the dance floor and return to the table since you left?" I nodded expectantly, and Helga shook her head, pointing toward one area of the gym. Our best friends were indeed taking advantage of the semi-darkness and lack of chaperones there.

As you can see, catching people in the act of making out wasn't anything new to us. After all, we were in high school. Just walk down a crowded hallway between class periods, and in the corners were the "face suckers" themselves, usually too wrapped up into their physical exertions to pay much attention to anything else going on around them.

Obviously, Phoebe and Gerald were no exception to this trend. What made them different, though, was the fact it'd taken them years to reach that oblivious stage while engaged in public displays of affection. From grade school on, Gerald, my best friend, and Phoebe, Helga's best friend, had always been interested in each other. However, they seemed to be quite happy with taking things slowly. Then, about three years ago, the two finally declared their couplehood status to be official, and they'd been going out ever since.

When you took into account the relatively brief lifespan of the average high school relationship, I had to admire Gerald and Phoebe's efforts for sticking it out as long as they had. This was even more of an accomplishment when you realized what complete opposites the pair was. Phoebe was a soft-spoken, quiet intellectual who often surprised people with her latent competitive streak in achieving high academic honors. A petite brunette of Japanese and Irish descent, she presently wore a conservative dress in classic black, her hair coifed in a short, smooth bob and her eyes outfitted with contacts instead of the usual glasses to correct her near-sightedness. Gerald had more of a smooth-talking, outgoing personality that made him quite popular and endeared him to almost everyone he met. With a huge afro that only accentuated his extensive height, Gerald at this moment sported a stylish white tux highlighting his dark skin and the long, lean frame he'd developed through massive participation in West Hillwood High's sports program.

Despite these lifestyle and disposition differences, though, Gerald and Phoebe seemed to genuinely fit each other in a way no one else was able to. Anybody with half a brain could see that. _And anybody with half a brain would also be rightly envious of what they have together,_ I thought, smiling ruefully as I looked over at Helga.

She noticed my expression and turned to study me curiously. "Take a picture, Football Head. It'll last longer," she retorted softly.

Without thinking, I reached up with one hand behind me to rub the back of my neck. This is an old gesture of mine that visibly reveals to everyone around me the very second nervousness, discomfort, or mortification rear their ugly heads. I felt annoyed with myself for being so damn obvious.

Yanking my hand away, I grabbed my own cup of punch. "Remind me again of why we're here, Pataki?" I inquired dryly as I took a sip.

"To have fun, of course," Helga replied, smirking at me with a wry knowingness. "Then again, I'd be having a lot more fun if the DJ would quit playing all those damn tear-jerking movie theme songs."

A couple of weeks before prom, the both of us were still without dates, so Gerald and Phoebe had proposed we should go with each other. Their argument was that it was only a natural course of action. Helga and I were good friends, and some people have went "as friends" if they couldn't get dates. No shame in that, right?

While we had to admit the logic of Gerald and Phoebe's plan was sound enough, the idea was nonetheless still pretty embarrassing. Helga and I tried as hard as we could to worm our way out of it by citing our desire to go stag. That didn't deter our best friends from continuing to pester us about the matter. Pretty soon we had no choice but to relent.

Now here Helga and I were at prom. Even if we hadn't formally shown up together, we definitely would've hung out for a while and had as much fun as we were currently having. Nevertheless, the whole situation felt sort of weird. Considering the events of the past six months or so, it was quite ironic to see that I was technically on a date with Helga G. Pataki. _Good thing she has enough of a sense of humor for the both of us,_ I thought, grinning at the sheer infectious quality of her deadpanning.

"What else can you expect after the king and queen are crowned? The same thing happened last year. In fact, I bet it happens every year." Tossing my head back, I swiftly finished off the rest of my punch and set the empty cup on the table. "I'm going to go get some air," I announced abruptly, rising. "Wanna come with?"

"Sure, why not? I could use a breather myself."

"Then I'd be honored to escort you outside, my fair lady." I held my arm out in an exaggerated pose of chivalry.

Helga's smirk widened. "When you put it that way, Arnold, how can any girl refuse your charms?"

_You have no idea, _I silently replied even as I recognized the irony of my words.


	2. Patience: Part Two

Patience

**Author's Note: Wow. Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Honestly, I never thought that my little idea would be received with as much interest as it did. Well, here's the second act to my three-part story. I'm sorry I took so long, but a lot of shit in my life has happened to prevent me from completing the section earlier. Now, to be fair, I'm going to warn you ahead of time that it'll seem a bit "talky." Just think of it this way: _Patience_ is a "story within a story" type of deal. Besides, the interplay between Arnold and Helga is the center of the story, and I wanted to fully explore that, especially when it came to this part. With that said, enjoy this chapter and please keep on reviewing! **

**Patience: Part Two**

**_The secret of patience is doing something else in the meantime._**

**_- Proverb of Unknown Origin_**

Someone had left the main entrance partially propped open, presumably to bring the humid atmosphere in the gym down to a more comfortable level. Helga and I pushed back this door just enough to ease ourselves through and outside onto a wide set of concrete stairs. The huge parking lot spread out below us was almost pitch black except for a few streetlights illuminating a narrow circumference around each structure. Behind us, we could still clearly hear the loud music blaring inside the gym. With no one else around, though, the dark beauty of the warm April night captured our attention more than anything else at that moment.

Helga lowered herself onto the bottom step, and I followed suit with the step right above hers. We were both silent at first until Helga turned to me and remarked, "Can you believe that prom is already almost over?"

"Hey, what happened to your strict 'no mushiness' policy?" I teased.

A small grin of amusement played upon her lips. "Can't I make one measly little comment?"

I shrugged. "Well, I'll be the first to say that this prom has certainly been…different."

"Doy! We were set up by our own best friends."

_Count on Helga to be blunt, _I thought, shaking my head knowingly. I'd always preferred to be more subtle in my approach to conversation (unless my temper or oddball sense of humor got the better of me), but you could never be quite sure of what would come out of Helga's mouth next. Naturally, I found such a quality to be both frustrating and refreshing at the same time.

"Helga, why did we let Phoebe and Gerald talk us into it?" I asked, sighing.

"Because they have enough dirt on us to blackmail us for life if we hadn't," Helga deadpanned, staring straight ahead. Suddenly, a grin that could only be described as devious crossed her face. Facing me again, she declared, "Then again, the same thing could be said of us."

"What're you up to now, Pataki?" When I saw that familiar gleam in her eyes, I knew Helga was cooking up another one of her infamous schemes.

"How about administering some justice of our own?" she proposed.

"Justice, huh?" I repeated, knowing full well that the word was a thin disguise for whatever prank she had up her sleeve. "I'm guessing that involves being judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one."

"That's the only way I work." Helga's smirk widened. "What about you, Football Head? Do you work that way, too?"

I didn't even blink as I smoothly replied, "I think I'm going to plead the Fifth."

Realizing I was thwarting her plans, Helga simply laughed and shook her head. "Arnold, you're still too much of a goody two-shoes sometimes."

Although I didn't always like to admit it, I was known as something of a do-gooder among my peers, even back into my P.S. 118 years. To this day, I'm not exactly sure how such a rep evolved about myself. All I tried to do once in a while was look on the positive side of things or lend a hand to those down on their luck. _Is that really so unusual? _I wondered. Whatever the case, I much preferred to keep my "do-goodism" a low-key matter these days. A busybody's the last thing anybody needs, and I wasn't about to become that guy.

If there's one thing that everybody does need, though, it's a sense of humor about themselves. "One can only hope," I joked in response to Helga's wry comment.

"Okay, I gotta admit that was a good one, even for you."

"What can I say, Pataki?" I lifted my shoulders in a gesture of feigned nonchalance. "I have my moments."

She cracked up at that. "That's exactly what you said when you and Gerald finally broke that losing streak and won a game against me and Curly last Sunday."

"Hey, if the saying ain't broke, don't fix it."

"Then I look forward to seeing if you're still able to back up those words this Sunday."

As a kid, Helga had been one of the few girls to regularly play baseball with us guys on an old vacant lot we'd cleaned up. But that was only the beginning. Over the years, she also showed an equally aggressive interest in basketball, bowling, volleyball, and swimming. Anyone who became embroiled in a match against her would more often than not find themselves figuratively and/or literally wiping out flat on their asses by the time the game was over. Oddly enough, though, she never joined any official sports except for a brief stint on our neighborhood girls' bowling team. She seemed to prefer keeping things casual, as evidenced by the friendly basketball competitions she, Gerald, me, and Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe, another student from our P.S. 118 class, would have every Sunday afternoon. This tradition had been started about six months ago, and both teams were still going strong.

I grinned, savoring the tactical advantage I had over Helga with my recent victory. "I think I can manage beating you just fine, Helga."

Helga chuckled and nudged my knee with hers lightly. "You know what, Arnold?"

"No, what?"

"If we did have to be set up by our best friends, I'm glad prom didn't turn out to be one big snooze fest."

"How so?" I smiled in spite of myself and added, "Surely it couldn't be the company. You just called that a goody two-shoes."

"For a goody two-shoes, you sure know how to give me one hell of a run for my money."

"Even in basketball?"

"In everything." A slight pause. "That's why prom didn't blow all that much."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

A back-handed compliment, to be more specific. Due to her obvious dislike of showing any "mushiness," Helga preferred to beat around the bush instead of outright praising people. Perhaps this wasn't very surprising, but I, too, preferred to give back-handed compliments to Helga. That was just another facet of our relationship that had been started all the way back to the time we were still publicly sworn enemies. When you did manage to get something out of Helga, though, you knew she meant it.

"What can I say, Football Head? I have my moments."

_Should've seen that one coming, _I thought in amusement.

"You have moments, too, huh?"

"Well, I probably won't have as many as Rhonda will later on tonight, what with her post-prom party and all."

Back in grade school, Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd was the rich, stuck-up snob as well as the self-appointed "fashion commentator" of our P.S. 118 class. Now she filled the exact same cliché role in high school, the only difference being that she was a bigger fish in a bigger pond. Over the course of those years, Rhonda really hadn't managed to inspire a whole lot of people to genuinely like her.

The one big exception was Curly. He'd always carried a major torch for her. Rhonda wouldn't have anything to do with him, though. He was a seriously off-the-wall misfit, and as such, a veritable threat to her elevated social standing if she were to be seen "fraternizing" with him.

"Yeah, that's guaranteed to be a doozy, isn't it?" I shook my head. "I can't believe Rhonda's even considering having another party after Curly's barfing disaster at her New Year's bash."

"Football head, don't you know that the Princess thrives on that kind of stuff? She can't risk being outdone by the other loaded assholes in the senior class, so she has to throw that little shindig of hers if she wants to stay on top, even if things there get a bit wild. Hell, that's why people keep crawling back for more, and she's at the center of it all, eating up the attention like the show-off she is." Helga shook her head and chuckled. "Yep, for Rhonda's sake, I _would_ recommend allowing Curly to get totally wasted again and then dance around with that lamp shade on his head. That is, until he becomes - shall we say – dizzy."

_What she said about Rhonda actually makes sense once you stop and think about it, _I realized, shaking my own head again.

"Helga, since when are you trying to psychoanalyze Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd?"

"Since never. The Princess isn't too hard to figure out. Neither is Curly, for that matter." She flashed me a mischievous grin. "Those two totally deserve each other, don't you think? It's been obvious for so damn long, it's downright sad."

"Beats the hell out of me, too. Why they won't make out and get it over with is beyond me. It would probably do them a world of good if they did."

Helga arched a single delicate eyebrow (she'd gotten rid of her infamous unibrow for miserably losing a well-publicized "put up or shut up" fashion dare with Rhonda in seventh grade) at me in surprise for my unexpected crack. "My, my, Arnold, aren't we being quite the little smart-ass this evening? Am I rubbing off onto you again?"

"Yup, you're such an evil influence."

A sly smile broke out on Helga's face. She knew exactly what I was up to. That was why I knew Helga wouldn't be able to resist the chance to spar with me, especially since I had initiated the process. More often than not, I was on the receiving end of one of her many baiting tricks, but Helga was also more than aware of the fact that I could hold my own every now and then. I guess such competitiveness also dated back from when Helga was still the bully of P.S. 118, for I'd always felt this inexplicably strong need to prove myself to her.

"Watch it, Football Head. That doesn't sound like much of a compliment to me."

"Hey, I'm just calling things as I see 'em."

She brandished her right fist (lovingly nicknamed by her as "Old Betsy") in a mock threatening gesture. "All right, Football Head, is this going somewhere?"

"I don't know, Pataki. That depends. Do you want it to?"

Pretending to consider my "challenge" for a moment, Helga finally withdrew Old Betsy from my face. She casually leaned back with her elbows on the step above her and her feet spread before her. "You're lucky I'm wearing a dress, or else I'd be kicking the living tar out of you right now."

"Whatever you say, Helga. You just better not be getting all soft on me with this weird girly talk of not ruining your dress."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I _am_ a girl," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

_Shit, _I thought, my face growing hot. _She got me there. _Before I knew it, my right hand had reached for its all too familiar place at the back of my neck. I cast my uneasy gaze downward and almost immediately realized what a mistake that was. Because Helga had stretched out her legs a moment ago, her shapely calves were directly in my line of vision. Flushing an even deeper red, I wasted no time in jerking my hand away from my neck and raising my eyes again to a safer level.

Helga was studying me, her own blue-gray eyes unreadable. "My mistake. You _did_ notice," she quipped softly.

_How could I _not_ notice you? _I wondered as our eyes locked together for a few brief seconds. Maybe it was something about this evening, but from the very moment Helga had stepped out onto the stoop of her home to meet up with Gerald, Phoebe, and me before heading off to prom together, I had found her to be looking incredibly beautiful…

Then Helga whipped out her trusty old irreverent smirk, and the stillness of the moment between us passed. "Sorry if I put you on the spot, Football Head."

"What else is new, Pataki?" I couldn't keep the dryness from entering my voice, even though what I really felt was far from sarcastic.

Her smirk softened into a small smile. It was Helga's most dazzling one yet that evening. My heart instantly began to pound a little faster. _Knock it off, __Arnold_I ordered myself.

"I did say that you give me one hell of a run for my money, didn't I?" she reminded me quietly.

Damn it. I hated it when she acted so irresistible. A warm grin slowly spread across my face, a sure sign I'd bowed once again to her comeback prowess. Helga's blue-gray eyes twinkled knowingly in response.

"So…before we got sidetracked, what did we establish here from all these Rhonda and Curly observations, Helga?"

"You first."

I went with the first thought that popped into my head. "The more things change, the more they stay the same?"

_And things really may never change between Rhonda and Curly, _I silently added. Yeah, it was sort of pathetic to see Curly moon over Rhonda the way he did, but there was also something very strangely appealing about his unswerving affection for her. We all want something we can't have in spite of everything, and this girl was what Curly desired most in the world, a feeling I could really relate to present…

Nevertheless, I was amazed at how willing Curly was to do just about anything for Rhonda. You don't find that kind of devotion every day, and it was a real shame Rhonda refused to give him a chance.

"Something like that," Helga replied, cutting into my thoughts.

"Hey, I never claimed to be some wise philosopher or anything."

"Just like I'm no shrink, huh?"

"Helga, if you're willing to psychoanalyze Rhonda, I'm more than willing to hear what you think the morale of her and Curly's story is."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Is it possible there's no point to be made with this kind of story?"

"Wouldn't be the first time it's happened."

"Still…don't you think some things _can_ change? Often very quickly, you know, without a person really being aware of it?"

The thoughtfulness that had unexpectedly crept into the tone of Helga's voice made me glance over at her inquisitively. "I take it we're not talking about Rhonda anymore, are we?"

"The subject of Rhonda got me to thinking about graduation again."

"Ah, the event that everyone can't get enough of, huh?"

During the past week or so, the seniors of West Hillwood High had begun to receive the usual round of acceptance, rejection, and waiting list letters from the schools they'd applied to last fall. Those who didn't have any plans on entering post-secondary education scoffed at the anxiety those who were college-bound were currently going through. Because that event and prom occurred almost simultaneously, most of us suddenly realized how swiftly graduation was approaching.

"Well, we do graduate next month. How can everyone not help talking about it?"

I understood her point, yet….

"Helga, if we were to graduate tomorrow, do you think anyone in our class would be able to tell us what they really wanted to do with the rest of their lives?"

"Touché, Arnold. But that doesn't mean no one in our class hasn't seriously thought about this sort of thing."

_Ain't__ that the truth, _I thought.

"Then would you agree that a person should still be doing something else worthwhile in the meantime until he or she finds what it is he or she is truly meant to do?"

It was Helga's turn to regard me curiously. "Like what?"

"I don't know. It could be anything. As long as you make it worthwhile for yourself."

"Hmmm…you might be onto something, Football Head." Helga smiled, eying a nearby row of parking spots. "How about walking across those parking bumpers over there all for the 'worthwhile' kind of fun that only comes with acting like a couple of big kids?"

"Okay," I consented, chuckling.

"Good. You start right here, and I'll take the other side. We'll meet up in the middle. No falling off, of course, or you have to start all over again."

With that, she got up and strode over to the far side of the row where an unoccupied handicapped spot was. She kicked off her sandals and hopped onto the space's yellow concrete bumper, strolling along it in her bare feet like a gymnast on a balance beam, both arms stretched out on either side of her.

As for myself, I shed my dress shoes but kept on my socks. Jumping on, I adopted the same stance as Helga had assumed to negotiate the parking bumpers' narrow, slippery surface.

A moment later: "Helga, I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

"I already used that whole 'doing something worthwhile' theory on Grandpa this morning."

"And did you just happen to use this theory on your grandfather when the wonderful pursuit of higher education was brought up yet again?"

Although I'd be expecting such a remark from the second I decided to broach the subject, I nonetheless shook my head in wonder. _It never ceases to amaze me how Helga can get to the thick of things so quickly,_ I marveled.

My father was an archaeologist, and my mother was a botanist. Both had worked in San Lorenzo for a while before moving back to Hillwood City shortly after I was born. When I was two years old, they embarked on an urgent mission back to that Central American country with their good friend Eduardo. My parents were to deliver to much-needed batch of medicine to a mysterious group of Natives called "the Green-Eyed People" who were dying out deep in the mountains. Because Mom and Dad never returned, I had been raised by my father's parents.

Growing up with my grandparents was definitely something else. Grandpa liked to constantly stretch things for humor's sake and was notoriously lousy at giving out advice. His best bit of counsel was probably "Never eat raspberries," which stemmed from his love-hate relationship with food. He even dubbed the bathroom his "office" since he spent so much time in there. Grandma (for lack of a better way to put this) was totally out of it. Depending upon what frame of mind she was in, she would adopt a variety of identities. Some of them were genuinely amusing and creative, while there were others that we could have easily done without.

Besides my grandparents and me, our old two-story house, the Sunset Arms, was also filled with boarders who were just as quirky as the three of us. With so many different people under one roof, there were bound to be the occasional disagreements and spats among us all. Essentially, though, our arrangement worked out strangely well. We were a family (albeit a nontraditional one) in every sense of the word. Nevertheless, things for us did change, and with a sudden quickness, too, just as Helga had said would sometimes happen to people.

It all started with Grandpa's stroke during my sophomore year. Although he wasn't left bedridden or paralyzed on one side, much of the amazing vigor a man my grandfather's age had disappeared in the wake of that stroke. Meanwhile, Grandma grew more and more absent-minded, which was eventually diagnosed as Alzheimer's disease. By the time I was a junior, Grandpa and I had no choice but to put her in a nursing home. There she could receive the care and attention she required for her condition.

To help meet the nursing home expenses, I took an assistant's job at a photographer's studio. I worked as many hours as I could get while simultaneously dealing with more and more of the boarding house responsibilities. On top of that, I had a relationship and a reporter's position on the school newspaper to maintain, both of which had been started before my grandparents' difficulties even appeared. Somehow, I managed to juggle it all fairly successfully, buoyed by my ultimate dream of going to college to become a journalist. As I entered my senior year, though, one event happened, and I gradually found myself wanting something different…

I forcibly brought myself back into the present. "Can't say I really blame Grandpa for preaching to me. Actually, I'd be worried if he didn't. He and I both know that going to college is pretty much a given if you want to get anywhere nowadays."

"Phoebe has said as much to me. And so would my family, if they all were still under the same roof to conveniently badger me." A sharpness pierced Helga's voice. "Isn't it weird how often that one argument can be repeated?"

For all of Helga's life, her family had been together only in name. Her mother was a lethargic, forgetful alcoholic, and her father was a loud, brash electronics salesman who'd ruthlessly built his business, the Beeper Emporium, from the ground up. The two bickered every once in a while, but they otherwise ignored each other most of the time. Mr. and Mrs. Pataki also repeatedly brushed aside Helga in preference for their older daughter Olga, considered to be the more "accomplished" of the two because of the many awards and honors she'd obtained with her numerous talents. Olga did try in her own way to have an actual relationship with Helga, but nothing really came of the efforts.

Consequently, Helga resented everyone in her family: her sister for taking away their parents' attention away from her; and her parents for not working out their differences and pushing her to become another "Olga." The seemingly stagnant situation quickly switched gears, though, when Olga eloped with one of Mr. Pataki's employees at the Beeper Emporium a couple of years ago. With their pride and joy now gone in such a disgraceful manner, Mr. and Mrs. Pataki's marriage deteriorated beyond the bounds of the tenuous equilibrium that had been maintained for many years by Olga's presence. Helga's parents would be separated in a matter of months, and the divorce process initiated around the turn of this year. Naturally, the process had so far proved to be messy and complicated for everyone involved, particularly Helga.

"Well, I wouldn't expect any less of Phoebe. She's very academically driven," I pointed out matter-of-factly. I paused for a moment before quietly adding, "And Phoebe's really disappointed you're not going with her to Bennington College in the fall."

_Was that a wise thing to blurt out? _I immediately wondered. _It's no small wonder why she doesn't want to discuss her problems much, not even with Phoebe, Gerald, or me. _Still, I knew the predicament in her life always occupied some part of her thoughts, and I hated seeing how it was slowly but surely eating her up inside.

And perhaps I, too, was seeking a little reassurance for myself.

As Helga executed a flawless jump onto the bumper of the fifth parking space in the row, I distinctly heard a sigh escape from her lips. "Arnold, you know as well as I do that I'm never going anywhere near the same school my sister attended. Besides, as you just pointed out, Phoebe is very academically driven. And we also know that she's an exception, not the rule. How many eighteen-year-olds do we know already got accepted into their first school of choice, snagged enough scholarships to cover all the costs, and even picked out a definite major that they've been interested in pursuing since they were a freshman in high school?" She shook her head. "I mean, it's surreal. My best friend wants to be an astronomer. No pun intended, but that's what I call reaching for the stars."

"Speaking of stars, let's not forget Gerald. We know how he hopes to be working with some big names one day once he becomes the physical therapist he's always dreamed of being. And I'm sure all that involvement he's put into sports will ultimately pay off. In fact, when you think about it, Phoebe and Gerald are really lucky to be blessed with a good sense of direction early on in life."

She nodded in acquiescence. "Not many people our age have that ability yet. Most of us need more time and experience before eventually choosing something concrete."

"Why else would I have come up with that 'worthwhile' theory of mine?"

"I know. Too bad it doesn't fly that well with a lot of people."

"Nope, it sure doesn't." I was surprised at the bitterness that seeped into my voice for what I uttered next. "In any case, deciding to be a freelance photographer instead of trying to become some hotshot journalist doesn't seem like a very smart risk to take."

Silence fell between us briefly. Then, her voice low yet clear, Helga stated simply, "Arnold, did you forget that I'm in the same boat as you? I'm considered crazy for holding off on college for a bit because I want to travel around. It's just that Hillwood City has gotten so stifling. I need to be somewhere else and then take things from there…"

At that, her voice drifted off. _Helga, I know how agonizing indecision is, _I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat.

Helga shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. I knew better.

"The point is, people like you and I have to take another road."

I couldn't help smiling at that. "Ah, yes, the road 'less traveled by.' "

"Well, duh. What other road could I have possibly meant?"

"Of course. You've only mentioned that road a million times before."

One of Helga's big passions was to read and write poetry. Her favorite poet was Robert Frost and in particular, "The Road Not Taken," the poem where the reference the road "less traveled by" came from and which had become her personal mantra as of late. In "The Road Not Taken," Frost metaphorically relates life to a physical journey filled with many twists and turns. Throughout this journey, there are instants where choices between alternate paths have to be made. The narrator of Frost's poem vacillates upon reaching such an inevitable fork in the road. He can opt to go the common route, which is the more reliable, and have a common life, or he can undergo the less common route, which is unknown and often difficult, and have a unique life that stands out above everyone else's life. The narrator finally decides to take the road "less traveled by," knowing he cannot see where it will lead. Nevertheless, he still yearns to travel both paths and realizes there will be no way he can ever return to the divergence to experience the other route.

"Pataki, now I'm wondering when you're going to break out the purple pen and little pink notebook you always carry on you. Isn't this a good time to create some ode to how 'worthwhile' the road 'less traveled by' is?"

She stuck her tongue out at me. "Sorry to disappoint you, Football Head, but I left both my pen and notebook at home-"

All of a sudden, Helga let out an involuntary cry as her footing slipped, causing her to pitch forward. Since I was on an adjoining parking bumper, I instinctively reached out to seize her around the waist and drew her to me. Although my body wobbled against the brunt of the catch, I was able to keep ourselves upright on the parking bumper.

Flustered, Helga lowered her eyes from mine and stepped away from me. "Guess I left more than just my pen and notebook at home, huh?"

"I'll say. For all the good luck we had in going across these parking bumpers, someone had to nearly fall right before we met up in the middle."

In the gym, we heard the last beats of a dance song fade out. The DJ came on the microphone to announce, "All right, folks, this is the moment you've all been waiting for: the last dance. And have I got the tune for you. It'sthe smash '89 hit from Guns N' Roses called 'Patience,' which goes to show that you can be bad-boy rockers and still show your soft side once in a while."

There were whispers of excitement as everyone waited for the DJ to load the song.

"Lord, that DJ is corny as hell," she remarked, smirking. "But we did hear the joker right, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did, Helga."

Patience _is going to be played at our senior prom? _a voice in my head echoed distantly. _Weird…_

"You ready to honor the bargain we made six months ago?"

"Why not?" I grinned. "I only hope you're a far better dancer than you are a walker of parking bumpers."

Helga glared at me in mock indignation. "You won't know for sure until you actually try to dance with me."

I bowed to her with a flourish. "I'll take up you up on that challenge, my fair lady."

Despite my flippant attitude toward Helga about the dancing, it was merely bravado. I was terrified out of my mind to be that close to Helga G. Pataki. And yet I wanted nothing more in this world, to have that last dance, that special moment with her...before I might have to let go of her forever.


	3. Patience: Part Three

**Patience**

**Author's Note: Well, it took me three years, but I finally finished the last part of this story. I hope you enjoy it, and please, review!**

**Patience: Part 3**

**Patience is bitter but its fruits are sweet. **

**- French Proverb**

_**(1…2…1, 2, 3, 4)**_

A slow acoustic melody filled the air. Helga and I smiled shyly at each other. Hesitating for a moment, I continued to drink in her beauty. Swallowing hard, I stepped forward and took her in my arms. We swayed together comfortably enough, yet a noticeable stiffness persisted between us. She kept her hands placed sedately on both my shoulders, while my grip remained steadfastly on her waist. I longed to pull her to my chest, thus bridging the gap separating us.

Suddenly, Helga slid her hands upward to cling to my neck. Settling her head down on my right shoulder, she whispered into my ear, "Don't think I'm getting chummy, Football Head. I'm way too tall, so I decided not to tower over you anymore."

"Sure," I agreed half-heartedly, then fell into quiet contemplation.

_**Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you**_

Hits and misses were all Helga was these days. In fact, I had never landed a bull's-eye in the target that was Helga in all of my eighteen years. Once again, when I thought I could predict how she would act, she somehow managed to always surprise me like she did just now with drawing me closer. There had to be one very important part of her that she withheld from me. It was the only explanation for her elusive behavior. This missing piece of the puzzle was what compelled me to stay at her side. Still, it tore me apart inside that I couldn't have all of her.

"Isn't it funny we ended up dancing to _Patience_ at our senior prom?" I remarked in an effort to break the stifling silence. Well, it was stifling to me.

Helga raised her head toward me and contorted her face in a comical expression. "You weirdo. What's up with you? No talking during a slow dance! It kills the mood."

_**I'm still alright to smile**_

As she returned her head to its original position, I smiled a little and shook my head. No matter how miserable she unconsciously made me because of what I felt for her, she could simultaneously lift me back up into ecstasy with her pure innocence. _How fucked up is that concept? _I wondered cynically.

_**Girl, I think about you every day now**_

Never a day passed where Helga didn't cross my mind. Frankly, such an obsession scared me. With my other responsibilities of school, work, and my grandparents, romance didn't have much of a place in my life. Belatedly, I learned that lesson when Lila Sawyer, my childhood sweetheart, dumped me for Stinky Petersen, a good friend of mine. The prom was the first time I had caught a glimpse of them in over seven months.

_**Was a time when I wasn't sure**_

After Lila, I banished all thoughts of any other women for a while. Nevertheless, Helga somehow drifted into my daily routine. Changing my whole negative perspective on the biggest antagonist of my existence was quite a lot in of itself. I refused to entertain anything more when Helga began to incite deeper feelings in me. Honestly, I didn't know what to make of this new development and didn't wish to further complicate my already very involved life.

_**There is no doubt you're in my heart now**_

In the same vein, the present also happened to be an ideal opportunity to finally admit, at least to myself, what I'd been keeping back: my love for Helga. As soon as I did, a strange kind of peace flowed through me. I closed my eyes and tightened my hold on Helga. Nothing could give me greater pleasure than to recall the memory that had started me on this path over six months ago…

The month was late September. Sunset hadn't quite fully descended yet. Not that it mattered anyway. Thick, dark clouds covered the whole sky, dispatching a torrent of rain down from the heavens. I was driving home from work, listening to music on the radio, and not paying much attention to my surroundings. In fact, I welcomed the storm, for the shower suited the stupor of numbness I'd been stuck in since my recent break-up with Lila.

Out of the fog materialized a lone figure walking down the sidewalk. Though the individual wore a shapeless blue jacket with the hood pulled up, effectively obscuring the person's face from view, I would nonetheless recognize the distinctive, long-legged stomp from anywhere; it was Helga. God knows I could've chosen to ignore her and continued on my merry little way. However, something inside of me practically ordered me to stop. Allowing my motor to idle, I rolled down the front passenger window, ready for anything.

"Hey, Helga, need a ride?" I called out loudly.

She halted dead in her tracks, whirling around, the shock evident in her eyes. "Arnold!" she cried in a voice almost too quiet for me to catch.

"Look, do you need a ride?" I repeated. What the hell was up with her?

Helga's shapely eyebrows knitted together suspiciously. "I don't need any favors from you, Football Head," she spat nastily.

_**Said, woman, take it slow**_

Immediately, that old familiar feeling of annoyance flared up. Still, I managed to force it down, because I didn't wish to leave her there. Patience was the key, meaning tricking her at her own game would be the only way to compel her to go along with my act of civility.

"Okay, Helga, see you around," I declared breezily, saluting her flippantly.

Tapping my gas pedal a little, I felt the car jerk forward and coast for a second or two before I heard Helga yell, "Wait! I changed my mind!"

Her hurried footsteps pounded on the pavement, and I smiled, slowing down again. If she'd be a bit more observant, she would've realized I'd left the front passenger window rolled down to listen for her relentment. After all, I would've already closed the window had I really decided on taking off. _Come on, Helga, get your ass in here_, I silently urged.

Throwing open the front passenger door, Helga, breathing lightly from her exertions, flung herself onto the seat and instantly slammed the door shut. She tore the jacket hood away from her head, simultaneously cranking the window lever to shut the window, thereby sealing off any further drizzle from finding its way into the car. A cascade of long, soft, damp curls tumbled down, settling around Helga's shoulders like a pillowly cloud. When she turned, staring at me expectantly, mouth slightly parted, I gazed at her in inexplicable abandonment for a moment…

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

I resisted the massive inclination to flip off the driver tooting his goddamn horn in the vehicle that'd abruptly emerged behind me. Helga simply frowned and looked away, warming her hands over the heating vents. My foot pushed down on the gas pedal, hurtling us away from the scene, which allowed me to breathe a bit easier.

"So, what were you doing out in the rain?" I finally asked. "There's a bus system, you know."

"All shall be revealed in good time, Football Head," she replied snappily.

"Hey, I'm not one to pry," I countered tersely. "Just trying to be conversational."

_**It'll work itself out fine**_

My companion cackled heartily. "Isn't this how your do-goody healing begins? In order to uncover what's wrong, you instantly become my concerned friend who tells me everything's going to be alright."

"Sorry, Helga, guess you didn't hear. I retired from the business of giving out advice. I discovered it didn't pay much to do something for free, so I got a real job instead."

"That must be why you're out in this weather, too," Helga surmised absently. I nodded, and she continued. "You're not on your way to work right now, are you?"

"No, I'm going home," I responded, casting a sideways glance at Helga. She was eyeing the ipod resting on the dashboard. "See something you like, Helga?"

"If I have to bum a ride from you, I wouldn't mind listening to other music besides that Nickelback bullshit," she declared, indicating with a dismissive sweep of the hand the offending song blaring from the radio component of my stereo.

"What's wrong with Nickelback?" I inquired curiously.

"The lead singer's voice gets on my nerves."

Chuckling, I conceded, "Yeah, I can understand where you're coming from." I conducted a left-hand turn as I entered the next phase of my speech. "All right, Helga, I'll let you hook up my ipod on one condition."

"I guess there really is no such thing as a free ride. Name your terms," Helga grudgingly relented.

"All I want in return is for you to tell me why you were here out in the rain."

_**All we need is just a little patience**_

"Ah, this is how you find out about my dirty little secrets. Your patience has definitely paid off." Her thin lips twisted into a smirk. "I was walking home from Tina Park when the storm decided to start."

"That's it, eh?"

Disappointment crept up on me. I hadn't expected her to be so forthcoming. Perhaps it was her way of one-upping my blackmail attempt. Meanwhile, Helga plugged the ipod into the stereo and began to rapidly spin the click wheel in search of music more suitable to her ears. Within seconds, a loud rock song erupted from the speakers.

"What the hell, Helga?" I exclaimed, laughing incredulously. "You put on Guns 'N' Roses? The lead singer of this band has a worse voice than Nickelback's."

"Did I mention that I can excuse a bad voice if the lyrics are exceptional?" Helga revealed, grinning wickedly. I administered to myself a mental slap upside the head for falling for her trick. "Plus, Guns 'N' Roses has a piano featured in some of their songs. Haven't you ever noticed the inclusion of a piano automatically renders something classy?"

I considered her point of view and shrugged. "Then _Casablanca_ owes part of its fame to a damn piano."

"I'm surprised you watch old black-and-white films," Helga remarked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Why? I live with my grandparents." A thought crossed my mind, causing me to inquire, "Don't tell me you're a closet classic movies fan…?"

She laughed as if my supposition were the funniest thing in the world. "Phoebe introduced me to some classic flicks, but I'm by no means a fan," Helga proclaimed. "Still, since I've seen _Casablanca_, I'd like to make the argument that another 40's movie, _To Have and to Have Not_, is a better film than _Casablanca_…_"_

**_Said, sugar, make it slow_**

**_And we'll come together fine_**

We maintained a healthy yet friendly debate on the merits of both _Casablanca_ and_ To Have and to Have Not_ until we arrived at Helga's house. She slid out of the car and rushed up to the front door. I was putting my car into gear to leave when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Helga hesitate. She proceeded to fumble through the pockets of her jeans and jacket, presumably for her house keys. Falling to her knees, she peeked under the doormat and cursed loudly.

Sighing, I rolled down the front passed window of my car. "Did you forget your house keys?" I yelled into the drizzle.

"Yes!" Helga retorted with exasperation, stalking her way back to my car. "Damn it all to hell!"

"Uh…will your dad be home soon to let you in?"

"No. He won't be home until late."

Her voice had dropped substantially, indicative of the shame she felt at having her parents' impending divorce already become public knowledge. The columnist of the local paper's gossip section had drawn open the curtain on this family drama due to Helga's father being a well-known local business owner. I was sure even Helga couldn't have guess her mother's next course of action would be to move out, further compounding the already tense situation by driving Mr. Pataki to stay away from home longer and longer in an effort to drown himself in his beeper and cell phone business.

Aside from this little bit of information I'd gleaned about Helga from word of mouth via Phoebe and Gerald, I didn't know much more on the topic of Helga's life. Nonetheless, it wasn't hard to conceive the notion that her parents' troubles were occupying most of her free time and energy. _She really has nowhere to go for a while,_ I realized forlornly. There was only one thing for me to do.

"If you want, you can come over to my place until your dad gets home," I suggested quietly.

_**All we need is a little patience**_

_**Patience…**_

_**Ooh, oh, yeah**_

Helga's eyes widened. Like me, she must've considered it strange to be thrown together so unexpectedly and end up actually getting along. _Funny what a little patience brings us,_ I thought bemusedly as Helga nodded in the affirmative to my offer of temporary shelter and once again entered my vehicle. My home, a green, two-storied house that looked as if it'd seen better days, wasn't too far away from Helga's abode, allowing us to pull up in front of it within minutes. Simultaneously, the storm started to let up.

"Arnold…" Helga began, turning to me suddenly. She'd been unusually silent during the brief ride. "I'd prefer not to run into the boarders or your grandparents if that's okay with you."

Though this new bit of information caught me off-guard, I maintained a neutral facial expression. "Have you changed your mind about being here? Would you rather be dropped off at Phoebe's?"

Instantly, Helga's arm leaped forward to halt my discourse with an index finger firmly pressed to my mouth. Serenely, calmly, she smiled at me, and oddly, my heart beat faster in response.

**_I sit here on the stairs_**

**_'Cause I'd rather be alone_**

"No, I don't want to leave. Since the rain stopped, I'd rather hang out on some fire escape and have a little peace and quiet instead of going inside and encountering a bunch of people." She removed her finger from my lips and pointed to the side of my house. "The fire escape right outside your room still works, doesn't it? I'd hate to have to use someone else's."

A perfunctory "yes" was all I could utter. How could I refuse her request? Within moments, I found myself pulling down the fire escape Helga had heretofore mentioned. We climbed up the set of rickety stairs with Helga in the lead. At the top, she halted and faced me. Clutched in her right hand was an object I'd not caught a glimpse of before: a pack of filtered cigarettes.

Glancing at my confused expression, Helga smiled in amusement and extracted a cigarette from the pack. "You didn't know I smoked, eh? Guess you learn something new everyday, Football Head."

Understanding belatedly dawned on me. Helga's ulterior motive for the fire escape scheme was to snatch an opportunity to smoke! Well, two could play this game. Before I lost my nerve, I reached into a pocket on my jeans and withdrew two items.

Flipping open a Bic lighter, I ignited a cigarette from my own pack, took a long drag, and dangled the lighter in front of my companion, inquiring, "Need a light?"

Although surprise shone in Helga's eyes, such an emotion only served to emphasize the wide, shit-eating grin plastered on her face. "I'll be damned," she remarked, almost as if she were in awe. "I never took you for the type to fall into the habit of smoking. What the hell happened to you?"

As Helga lit her cigarette with my Bic, I laughed cynically and responded, "No matter what anyone says about the evils of smoking, it still relaxes you and releases you from the stresses of life like nothing else in this world."

Helga nodded thoughtfully, carelessly flicking cigarette ash into the open space beyond the fire escape. Then she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon my face, softly telling me, "You know, Football Head, you have nothing to justify to me. You're preaching to the choir here." She's right, I realized with a start. Where others would readily condemn me for smoking, Helga wouldn't. The both of us were in the same boat. In fact, she was the one to disclose her secret first. Why? Did she somehow sense that she could trust me?

How strange this whole situation was. I suddenly desired to unearth everything I could about Helga. Who knew what else we had in common? After all, I hadn't connected so well with another person since…Lila.

**_If I can't have you right now, I'll wait, dear_**

My contemplations instantly screeched to a halt. What the hell was I thinking, comparing Helga to, of all people, my ex? Besides, Helga wasn't an individual who could be easily deciphered. Even if one did succeed at extracting information from her, one had to question her motives for doing so. Did I really have the patience to compel her to readily give of her to me?

"Penny for your thoughts, Arnold?" Helga broke in. A moment later, she smiled and shook her head, tossing her cigarette butt away. "Actually, never mind. The night is young. We have plenty of time left to chew the fat further in depth."

_**Sometimes, I get so tense**_

_**But I can't speed up the time**_

_**But you know love, there's one more thing to consider**_

Returning Helga's smile, I ignored my mental freak out. There was no need for me to immediately label my possible intention to include Helga in my life as futile. Only time could reveal what was to develop. No amount of anxiety would change that inescapable fact.

_**Said, woman, take it slow**_

_**Things will be just fine**_

_**You and I'll just use a little patience**_

We remained on the fire escape for a while longer, smoking a couple more cigarettes and not speaking much. Somehow, the silence didn't seem nearly as awkward as I'd assumed it would be. Perhaps our quiet time could even be considered peaceful, another sign our patience was paying off by allowing ourselves to loosen up more and more in each other's company.

After we'd had our fill of carbon monoxide, Helga and I ascended the rest of the length of the fire escape to the roof. My grandmother's baby grand piano, too large to fit through one of the boarding house's narrow doors, perched up here under a tarp my grandfather had set up as protection for the piano. Helga made a beeline straight for the instrument, and surprising me once again, commenced to expertly play a harmony faintly familiar to me.

"Since when do you play the piano?"

"Don't you know I can damn near do anything and excel at it? Now name that tune!" she ordered me in a mischievous tone.

I listened attentively for a few seconds before my brain supplied me with the melody's title: "It's Guns N' Roses' _Patience_!"

"Correct!" Helga thundered sonorously, continuing to deftly move her fingers over the piano's keys.

_**Said, sugar, take the time**_

_**'Cause the lights are shinning bright**_

_**You and I've got what it takes to make it**_

The haunting quality of the song induced a shiver to course through my body. Overhead, night had completely consolidated its grip on the heavens, bringing forth a smattering of countless scores of stars whose apparent beauty couldn't be concealed, even in the smoggy skyline of the city. Unbidden, a random thought floated into my consciousness that announced to me how nice it would be to stay in this moment forever…

"Have I proved my point yet, Arnold?" my companion queried boisterously.

"Which point is that?" I asked curiously.

"Hello! Weren't you paying attention earlier? My point about how the inclusion of a piano renders something classy. The original version of _Patience_ is only acoustic, but Guns N' Roses incorporated a piano into the song when they played it in concert. I'm merely following their example and look how improved _Patience_ is."

_**We won't fake it**_

_**Ooh, never break it**_

_**'Cause I can't take it**_

Much as I naturally agreed with Helga, something told me to react with flippancy toward her own facetious behavior. Our trading smart-ass comments back and forth had always been our best method with which relate to each other. However, during our time together, the nature of our spirited exchanges was changing from snappish to good-natured. If we didn't follow our tradition, even with it mellowing out, something would feel missing, out of place.

"I don't know, Pataki. Maybe you're still wrong. Acoustic by itself can just as good."

"Now you're calling me Pataki, eh? That's a new one for you, but I do approve of it." She halted her playing and faced me, stretching a hand toward me. "Tell you what, Football Head. If we're ever together somewhere and hear _Patience_ being played, I'll dance with you to it. We'll find out if my theory holds up. Deal?"

_**(…Little patience, mm yeah, ooh, yeah)**_

_**(Need a little patience, yeah)**_

_**(Just a little patience, yeah)**_

_**(Some more patience, yeah)**_

"Deal!" I laughed, shaking her hand warmly, not realizing at the time the importance of the bargain I was consenting to but only thinking of it as a joke….

_**I've been walking these streets at night**_

_**Just trying to get it right (Need some patience, yeah)**_

My mind reverted to the present, where Helga was now much closer to me than that fateful day and yet remained as distant as ever. For the millionth time, frustration reared its ugly head. Retreating myself into memories of the past hadn't been a release of any kind, just like my routine of aimless wandering the streets any time after I saw Helga and felt particularly lonely wasn't a good coping mechanism either.

Something in me snapped. I'd had enough. Come hell or high water, Helga _would_ directly acknowledge me in the way I wanted her to. "Helga," I murmured without thinking.

At the sound of my voice, Helga lifted her head from my shoulder to gaze at me, her blue-gray eyes large and meltingly dark. I instantly grew breathless with the sight. I'd never seen anyone as beautiful as Helga looked at that moment in my arms. Not even…Lila.

_**It****'s hard to see with so many around**_

_**You know I don't like being stuck in a crowd (Could use some patience, yeah)**_

_**And the streets don't change but, baby, the name**_

I repeated her name in a whisper, recalling all the helplessness and negative emotions my street walks had drummed up. Now I was doing something about my feelings. "Helga."

She parted her lips as if to reply but didn't speak. Her eyes were wide with surprise and a vulnerability I'd not caught a glimpse of in the longest time. It was then I knew that I was lost.

_**I ain't got time for the game (Gotta have some patience, yeah)**_

_**'Cause I need you (Patience, yeah)**_

Bending my head down, I closed my eyes tightly, an indescribable ache running through my body. Milliseconds later, our lips met in a light, feathery kiss.

_**Yeah, yeah, well, I need you (All it takes is patience)**_

_**Oh, I need you (Take some patience)**_

To my surprise, Helga's hands stole from my neck to either side of my face. She drew me in even closer to her, thereby deepening our kiss. I responded by snaking my arms around her lower back and gently pressing her entire body against mine. As we remained locked in that embrace, the world around us seemed to melt away. Nothing else mattered. There was only that acute, overwhelming sense of each other.

_**Whoa, I need you (Just a little patience is all we need)**_

_**Ooh, all this time….**_

The song ended, bringing us back to reality, and we instinctively pulled apart. I stared at Helga, my self-imposed mask of denial and restraint having been fully removed at last, revealing a face naked and stripped of all defenses. For better or for worse, everything was out in the open now. There was no turning back. I had so much to tell Helga all of a sudden, so much I wished to articulate to her of my feelings for her. On the other hand, a closer inspection of the expression in her eyes revealed a perceptive gleam that made me realize I didn't have to utter a single word; she already understood.

Simply put, I was blown away by the amazing girl standing before me. I'd probably had an inkling all along about Helga's feelings for me, but I'd allowed myself to become bedazzled by other females that I could never really have anyway. Then, when I finally did notice her subtler yet no less brilliant qualities, I was too blinded by self-pity and doubt from my break-up with Lila to own up the feelings I also must've harbored for her all these years. Still, Helga had always waited for me…

"You've known the whole time," I blurted stupidly.

"Doy!" Helga blunted confirmed, smirking, but her eyes burned with a strange intensity, betraying the storm raging within her.

"And you feel the same way about me," I further concluded.

"Ah, the final missing piece of the puzzle! Jeez, I was wondering when you'd figure out the whole grand conspiracy. It only took you fifteen years. Not bad for a dense Football Head."

Helga's response caused me to thrown back my head ad laugh heartily. I couldn't help it. I had this crazy notion that if I knew Helga until we were both a hundred years old, she'd still have a surprise or two in store for me.

And I loved surprises.

She tried to disguise her own amusement with a trademark scowl. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." I struggled to put on a straight face.

Not to be outdone, she snapped back in mock petulance, "Yeah, right! I know you better than that. Come on, Arnold, out with it! I can handle whatever shit you have to give me."

"Pataki, shut up, and come here!"

For all of her blustery show, Helga trembled ever so slightly under my touch when I reached for her again. I was still reeling from the first kiss we'd shared together and found myself wanting more. Catching a glimpse of the same desire reflected back at me in Helga's eyes, I wasted no time in bridging the gap between our mouths.

Unlike the other kiss, which had been slow and tender, this one was filled with more urgency and fierceness. We clung together tightly, allowing ourselves to freely explore each other's upper body with our hands. Helga emitted a little moan and parted her lips to receive my tongue in her mouth, making the experience that much more pleasurable.

"Let's go back in before Gerald and Phoebe send out a search party for us," Helga abruptly mumbled, her cheeks turning pink as she slowly disentangled herself from my arms. "Or at least before the entire senior class comes out and sees us here. Prom is officially over, after all, and they should be heading to Rhonda's party any minute now."

"Fine by me," I agreed, feeling a flush creep into my own face.

We didn't move from our spots.

"Arnold?" Helga at last asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes?" I answered breathlessly.

"Can we keep this between us for now?"

"You mean until we see where it's going?"

"Mm-hmm." Helga's gaze nervously dropped down to her hands, which were bunched up in the folds of her prom dress.

Tentatively taking one of her hands, I decreed, "But of course, Pataki. We've always followed that course of action, haven't we? So why break a perfectly good tradition?"

Without even glancing at me, she laced her fingers through mine and gave my palm a squeeze. The gesture was practically imperceptible, yet simultaneously, it meant so much more than that. _It's ok,_ I reassured Helga as she let go and headed with me toward the gym doors. _We're going to be okay, you and me._

Yes, I really believed that statement. Never in any moment before or since then did the true nature of our relationship become so infinitely clear. No matter how long it took, no matter what the obstacles, I knew Helga and I were slowly but surely coming together. We belonged to each other. We completed each other. We _needed_ each other. Our bond would remain as unshakable as it had already been throughout most of our lives. As the Guns N' Roses song went, all Helga and I required was "a little patience," and tonight we had taken that first big step.

**THE END**


End file.
